Gold
by The Taloned Merlin
Summary: Mei does not want to lose the gold in her life.


A/n: This is AU, as far as I know. Certainly Mei became very close to the Elrics, as seen in the photo at the end of the series, and many people speculate she and Al became romantically involved. There is, however, no real evidence for this, so it may be safe to assume they never got married. I have cheerfully taken liberties with this thought.

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA.

Gold

In Xing, everyone is colourless. The marketplaces are full to the brim with colour, yes, and the carpets and tapestries are unparalleled, woven with skilled fingers, but when up and down the people walk you can see their long thick plaits stirring behind them, glossy black and bound with many-coloured strings. Their skin is pale as the moon that swings in the sky, and with their dark hair they appear fey due to the contrast, the sheer dichotomy between shades.

They use colour to soften the difference: garnet-red and cobalt blue and butter-yellow and stinging emerald. Bright, bold colours to balance out the otherwise dreary routine of black and white. So Mei wears clothes that are rose-pink or deep crimson, and Alphonse laughs like a daisy and says he likes it.

Alphonse has nothing black or white about him. He is golden as the sun, and his amber eyes are touched with green so that they appear like sunlight through fading leaves. His skin is pale, but with undertones that are warm; not the raw, flesh-coloured skin she sees on so many Westerners. When Alphonse moves in the dim light his skin has a soft sheen to it, and Mei ripples her hands across it every time as if she has never done this before.

Mei is a Xingese princess, born and bred. She is destined to marry some high lord in order to uphold the honour and dignity of her clan. Certainly not to lie with this Amestrian boy with his flaxen hair and thick-lashed eyes and a voice unmatched in sweetness, and taste his lips the way a thirsty man tastes cool water, holding his face in her palms while their hips touch ever so slightly and he pulls her closer with strong, callused hands.

Because she should know better. She is no longer a child with far-fetched fancies but a young woman, and while she is not free to make her own decisions as so many others are, she would like to. Yes, she should know better than to kiss his eyes shut with quivering lips while he plays with her braided hair, then with her, and feel the light brush of his lashes against her breast.

Her half-siblings disapprove. They shouldn't, because they shouldn't know, and the first time they tell her she is so startled she has to struggle not to weep. They tell her she is too obvious with the way she gazes at him, the way her fingers sometimes touch his gloved hand, the way she is always with him. Mei never realised how stark they looked with black hair and white skin until she met Al.

But they don't tell or spread rumours. They are competitive, not vindictive. Not since their relations were straightened out by Lin and his blood-red philosopher's stone.

So Mei breathes a sigh of relief against Al's slender, firm back, and trails warm kisses along the rhythmic pattern of his spine, and when Al turns and presses her down, his forehead resting on hers, her heart stutters at the heat of his body and and the fire of his eyes.

At first she was not sure. Even when he arrived in Xing, his hair cut short and his smile like sunshine, she thought he wanted Winry. Winry, with her pale, whip-straight hair and eyes that had the blue of forget-me-nots. But Winry was Edward's, and Al would never deliberately come between two people – not that he wanted to, as she found out a couple of years later, when he choked with laughter till tears rolled down his cheeks when she asked him.

She is still not sure, but only because she knows she cannot have him forever. When she thinks of this, she grows morose and wants to be alone, and snaps at him, and ends up weeping into her pillow till her eyes are sore.

But when they are together on musky, Xingese sheets, lips locked in a fiery embrace and eyes lost in stupor, when teeth nip gently at collarbones and shoulders, when lids close amid near-unbearable ardour and sighs and barely-suppressed gasps rent the air, Mei is able to forget that she may lose him tomorrow and sinks in the bliss of their passion.

At length their breathing slows and Al wraps an arm round her, and she listens to the steady beat of his heart, and realises how fragile he is – how fragile they all are. One slash at the chest with a dagger or sword, and that little heart stops beating. Mei pushes the thought away as if it is an annoying insect.

Maybe not forever, but at least for now, for _now_, the gold in her life will stay.


End file.
